


Condemnation

by flowersforgraves



Series: BTHB [38]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, Self-Esteem Issues, ambiguous timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 10:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21097652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/pseuds/flowersforgraves
Summary: Ridcully talks at Rincewind about a cut on his palm.





	Condemnation

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from someone on discord: scar to remember with Discworld
> 
> Card: [here on Imgur](https://imgur.com/VtOGzNh) // List of claimed prompts: [here on Tumblr](https://flowersforgraves.tumblr.com/post/184817489731/)
> 
> Prompt me via Dreamwidth or Tumblr!

"Show me your palm!" The Archchancellor has a booming voice and an enormous presence, which combine with several other things (most of which are just anxiety) to make Rincewind feel incredibly small.

He obeys, if fearfully, hesitating only a fraction of a second, and Rincewind tremulously extends his hand to Ridcully, who takes it in his own hand. His fingers and wrist look thin, incredibly fragile against Ridcully's broad strength. But Ridcully is surprisingly gentle as he peers over the tops of his glasses at the newly healed slash in Rincewind's palm. 

"How did this happen?" Ridcully asks, voice only marginally quieter despite being two feet away from Rincewind's ear. Gentle in touch only, then. Ridcully's soothing voice could use some work.

He does his best not to flinch away from the aural assault. "I cut myself," he says. It's not precisely a lie -- Rincewind may be a fool, but he's no idiot. Lying to a wizard, even if you are a wizard yourself, is almost as inadvisable as lying to a witch. But he isn't precisely telling the truth either/ His hand had been sliced open on a knife, because he genuinely didn't know the answer to whatever questions he'd been asked._ Every time you see this, remember your failure_. The voice in his head is loud, thunderously so, even though loudness as a concept doesn't exist inside his thoughts.

_Yes_, Rincewind thinks. _I failed. I remember. I remember that I was not useful_.

"On purpose?" Ridcully's brows draw down, grey hairs reminding Rincewind of nothing so much as a very long mouse stuck to the Archchancellor's forehead. "Did you cast -- ah. Ah, yes, that wouldn't have gone very well, would it." He has a habit of interrupting himself in one-on-one conversations, Rincewind thinks, which adds to the disheveled, messy appearance.

"No," he says, which is also neither a lie nor the truth. "Archch--"

Ridcully interrupts him as if he hasn't spoken at all. "Well then, my boy, we had best be seeing about getting you some better co-ordination! How would you like to join the next faculty trip? Usually at least one person falls off something."

_It won't help_, says the sibilant whisper in Rincewind's ear. _You'll only be reminded of how weak you were_. 

"No," Rincewind squeaks, but Ridcully ignores him in favor of waving the Bursar over.

"Bursar! Make sure Rincewind here is on the next university jaunt abroad! He needs some sport in his life. Good man," and then it's right back to the loud voice in his ear, because somehow Ridcully has convinced himself that his clandestine talents are far, far greater than they actually are.

Rincewind puts himself on autopilot. As long as he can see the scar on his palm he'll be aware of it, no matter what Ridcully says. Or possibly as long as he can still feel it. Even when he doesn't look, he knows. 

Coordination isn't the problem, at least not this time. It's cowardice, which Rincewind thinks will be much, much harder to fix.


End file.
